Hilda Conkling

Short Story

 Next Poem          

I found the gold on the hill;
I found the hid gold!
The wicked queen
stole the gold,
hid it under a stone
and never told.
The selfish queen
rolling away
in her white limousine,
never knew nor dreamed
that I searched all day
till I found the gold,
the gold!

Next Poem 

 Back to
Hilda Conkling